Misleading Physicality
by KarotsaMused
Summary: Hakkai muses on Gojyo; Gojyo muses on Hakkai - rated for theme
1. Misleading Physicality

A/N: Me and my short little random vignettes. Eh, well, whaddayagonnado? I dunno...it's weird and I like it. There you have it, folks ^.^  
  
Disclaimer: Saiyuki isna mine! *snaps fingers* of all the rotten luck...  
  
Hakkai PoV musing on Gojyo. Rather obvious shounen-ai, not really yaoi but, well, you'll see. It's very pattern-oriented, but that's just a tic of mine. Enjoy...  
  
***  
  
Sometimes he makes a deep satisfied sound somewhere between a purr and a roar and rolls over, nuzzling into my shoulder with hot, exhausted lips and just breathing.  
  
Sometimes he screams my name, hoarse and violent, and collapses limbless with no regard to either of our abilities to survive under his weight.  
  
Sometimes he makes no noise at all. It comes hard to him and he watches me, takes my body into his hands and drowns himself out with what he wrests from me.  
  
Sometimes he screams incoherently, more like a whimper and less like a bellow, and falls backward so my hands are ripped from him and the bond immediately breaks.  
  
Sometimes he catches my mouth in his and we cry into each other. On days with rain coming we are unable to let go, to break apart, to isolate ourselves.  
  
If he is sated, I am writing half-uncomfortable, almost used but utterly desirable and befitting of the posture I am unable to release, legs spread for the world to see.  
  
If he is violent, I am exhausted, clutching at strands of his hair as I gather scattered wits that fled in the face of sudden, gorgeous, inescapable blindness.  
  
If he is silent, I buzz with the energies he has poured into me, nesting and knotting the sheets beneath me as I struggle to remain and yet desperately wish to get away.  
  
If he pulls away, I shiver at the sudden cold, at the sudden emptiness not so mockingly wanton but endlessly desolate. It provokes waves of nostalgia in metaphors I don't care to frame.  
  
If he moans into me, I cry raindrops for him. Weather permitting, we are allowed to taste trust in each other's mouths, to escape the real pain in favor of our private invention.  
  
Sometimes he uses me, and I can understand that. I need the release.  
  
Sometimes he exalts me, and I lose my sense. I need the exhaustion.  
  
Sometimes he manipulates me, and I am at his mercy. I need the attention.  
  
Sometimes he leaves me, and I can finally breathe. I need the space.  
  
But on days with rain coming, favors are exchanged. I need this play on trust.  
  
There is no love here. Only the nuances of misleading physicality. 


	2. Tentative Blackmail

A/N: You know, I just had to do it. Gojyo's turn!  
  
***  
  
I hate that he lays lifeless beneath me, waiting for my hands.  
  
I hate that he warms slowly against me, whimpering as he breathes.  
  
I hate that he bucks wildly away from me, torn and wanton.  
  
I hate that he burns so brightly about me, pressure like pleasure.  
  
I hate that he writhes hotly before me, a private show that I don't deserve.  
  
Some nights he is empty, cold and unresponsive, welcoming and filled with something akin to hurt disdain.  
  
Some nights he is buzzing, giddy and mewling, muzzy and filled to brimming with sake so that we just don't have to talk.  
  
Some nights he is so alive, frightened and overwhelmed, lusting and filled with desire that he taught himself not to feel.  
  
Some nights he is awake, alert and calculating, open and thoughtful as I am pinned disconcerted by his brilliant eyes.  
  
Some nights he is sweet, needy and demanding, acting and filled with truth so painful I can taste it on him.  
  
I can fall asleep to the warmth of his chest, my ear pressed against his heart, listening to his calm breathing.  
  
I can fall asleep tangled in his legs, freezing away on my own side of the bed, so I can watch him while I drift off.  
  
I can fall asleep breathing his air, unable to tear my face from his, pressed against him as he shakes in exhaustion.  
  
I can fall asleep before he even relaxes, my head filled with the smell, the sound, the tase of him so I am smothered.  
  
I can fall asleep some other time, because we are unable to relax enough in the wake of unwilling, silent confessions.  
  
There is no trust here. Only tentative blackmail. 


End file.
